


Without Regret

by BlunderGod (PompousPickle)



Series: The Fire Does Not Rule You [7]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Body Exploration, M/M, Massage, Mutual Masturbation, My slow decent to garbage-hood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/BlunderGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As before, Hanzo allows Kenshi to see him a little more clearly. However, this time the context is different, and the touch is much more meaningful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Regret

Hanzo Hasashi tried not to dwell on introspection. So often it only led to self-loathing and frustration. He would meditate often, but very seldom did he look upon himself and wonder why his decisions led him to a certain point. So often he acted before thinking; it was difficult to look back on many of his choices without regret.

Which is why he found it hard to recount exactly how he got here: stripped down to his underwear and laid out beneath an equally undressed Kenshi Takahashi.

“This is not about sex,” Kenshi reminded him, kneeling down next to the futon and placing a tentative hand on the other man’s chest. “This is merely about me getting to know your body better. To see you as you see me.”

“You need not tell me this again,” Hanzo grunted in frustration. Hanzo was unfamiliar with intimacy with men. He had kissed Kenshi, certainly. He would kiss him all of the time if their schedules allowed. Hanzo wanted more, but still found himself unable to fully let the man in. 

So they had agreed on this, the “mapping” of Hanzo’s body. It was intimate and private, but with no expectations between either of them. Simply a way for Kenshi to see Hanzo deeper than in stolen touches and assumptions. Still, Hanzo felt a little helpless as Kenshi kneeled before him, and he wasn’t sure he was fond of the feeling.

“You are ready then?”

Hanzo made a sound that was both irritable and affirmative. Kenshi let out a small sigh, wondering if he had made some kind of mistake. This would be an important step in their relationship, he knew that. He wanted this. He wanted _Hanzo_. And he had come so far that he wasn’t going to let things go now. Still, Kenshi couldn’t help but wonder if he was taking things too far, too quickly. “Let me know if you wish to stop, my friend.”

Hanzo grunted one more time, wishing Kenshi would stop calling him “friend”. They had passed friendship long ago, with soft kisses and hidden touches, and heavy thoughts drifting freely between the two. “I am not a patient man, Kenshi. Do not test me further.”

“Of course.” Kenshi moved his hand upwards, scaling the height of the man’s torso. He shifted his body forward and placed his hands around Hanzo’s face, stopping there for only a second before moving downwards. He could feel Hanzo’s breath sharpen, still so guarded and uncertain. He differed so greatly from the man Kenshi experienced out in the open, sparring with him or practicing his katas. That Hanzo was heated and determined- a stoic pillar of support for his students. This Hanzo was still heated, but impatient and unsure, stubborn but self-conscious. Kenshi lingered on him, enraptured by the constant contrast.

He moved his fingers down beneath Hanzo’s ears and under the man’s chin, pressing lightly on the soft skin. Hanzo watched Kenshi carefully, observing how his head tilted as he moved across the ninja’s throat; he looked as though he were making notes. He removed one hand and felt just below the neck and across the veins there. It took only a moment before Hanzo realized that he was taking a pulse. The Shirai-Ryu snorted; some days he wasn’t sure if he was really human himself. He could hardly blame the swordsman for checking.

Kenshi moved on wordlessly. His fingers brushed over the collarbone and across the shoulders, cupping them and then exploring every contour of his arms. Kenshi ran his thumbs over the insides of Hanzo’s wrists and the other man felt himself begin to relax, losing himself to the gentle and exploring touches. Kenshi was taking his time, memorizing every dip and rise of Hanzo’s muscle.

By the time Kenshi had worked his way towards Hanzo’s chest, the other man had shut his eyes, just relaxing and enjoying the sensation. Sleep did not come naturally to the man anymore. He was always thinking, training and fighting. A sense of calm was foreign to him. Even during meditation, he was fighting back memories. Fighting back _Scorpion._ He forgot how good it was to simply close one’s eyes and take long breaths. With Kenshi, it felt a little easier.

The man above him smiled a little, running his hands over the man’s pectorals. He always knew that Hanzo was handsome, ever since the Shirai-Ryu had allowed him to map out his face. And he had begun to paint a picture about the man’s physique, through sparring and little touches. But Kenshi was quickly discovering that Hanzo had the body of a god. It was all he could do to resist spending more time feeling his arms and groping at his chest. He couldn’t take advantage; it was enough that Hanzo was open enough to him to let him do this.

Nearly enough, anyway. He couldn’t help but notice the way that Hanzo’s heartbeat picked up as he grazed over certain spots, like over his nipples and around his jawline. He also couldn’t help but press a little firmer in some places, like right on his abdomen, savoring the way Hanzo’s breath shallowed out just a little. Kenshi filed it all away for further use, but still made note to pay extra attention to certain spots. The man’s muscles were less coiled now, more willing and pliant for Kenshi’s exploration.

Hanzo vaguely acknowledge how good he was feeling as Kenshi’s palms drifted past his pelvis and down towards his legs. And part of his mind registered that he was slowly becoming aroused. However, the rest of him was simply drifting, not thinking of anything for the first time in a long time.

“Is this alright?” Kenshi thought he ought to ask, since he hadn’t heard anything more than a breathy sigh in a while. His hands gripped around Hanzo’s thighs and skirted along the inside. He could feel the muscle tense under him while the other man let out a low grunt, nearly a moan. Kenshi had a hard time holding back his smile.

“Have…” Hanzo cleared his throat, his words sounding heavy and elongated. Even to his own ears he sounded distant, drugged. “Have you done this to all your past lovers?” He opened his eyes just a little, to find that Kenshi was lower now, bending over and exploring his thighs and knees. If he were just a few inches over, he would be between the man’s legs. The image, coupled with the attention to his legs, sent a lazy rush of blood south. It hardly bothered him. It wasn’t the first time the swordsman had worked him up like this, though this was by far the most hands-on.

“I hardly ever knew them well enough,” Kenshi shrugged. He had the opportunity only once before, with Suchin. He had mapped her body like a cartographer, making sure that he never forgot a single dip or curve. To this day, he could remember her skin under his hands. Hers was softer than Hanzo’s, but his was so much warmer. And he was so much more real than his memories. “I’ll admit I was never one to take it slow.” There were always other things to do, places to go and people that needed to be brought to justice. But with Hanzo, Kenshi could make some time.

The other man didn’t say anything. He only flinched as Kenshi ran his hands over his feet, down to his soles. Ticklish, the swordsman noted with a smile. Hanzo let out a small warning growl, and Kenshi removed his hands immediately with a chuckle. “I would not be so cruel, Master Hasashi.”

“I can never be sure with you,” Hanzo said lowly. Kenshi stretched his arms over Hanzo’s torso, slowly turning the man over. The ninja allowed himself to be moved, still limp to the other man’s touches. Hanzo decided that he would be satisfied to let this moment go on forever, if he could. Settling down on his stomach, he grumbled again, “You always leave me guessing.”

Kenshi only smiled returned to mapping out Hanzo. He started again at the ears, enjoying the way Hanzo tensed and let out a shuddering breath. He ran his fingers along the shell of the ears and moved lightly down the back of his neck. Kenshi roamed across the shoulder blades, feeling the tension in his muscles, knotted all the way across his back. He pressed down a little, getting a feel for Hanzo’s shoulders. His muscles were like pebbles underneath his skin, taut and pushed to their limit.

Pushing a little further, Hanzo let out his first moan. It was a small thing, but Kenshi’s ears twitched as soon as he heard it. It was like the beginning of a song, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much more he could get out of the man. Kenshi leaned forward until he could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s skin. He brushed one hand against Hanzo’s neck, before murmuring into his ear. “You don’t take proper care of yourself, Hanzo.”

It was such a simple thing, but Hanzo’s entire body completely tensed. He let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding, slowly come undone. He couldn’t summon enough energy to properly protest Kenshi’s words, but he managed to mumble “That is…rich. Coming from you.” He buried his head back into his pillow and screwed his eyes shut as soon as the man backed away from him.

Hanzo wasn’t wrong, Kenshi decided as he ran his hands over the arms again. He was fascinated with them, tracing smooth circles around the back of his biceps. Hanzo stressed too much and worked too hard; it left his body coiled and wrecked. But Kenshi would spend months alone, dedicated to his work and buried in vengeance. It wasn’t healthy, and it was hardly sane. Hanzo was right; he didn’t take care of himself, in the past. But now he had a son, a family, and a place to call home.

He was getting it together, thanks to the man falling apart beneath him.

As Kenshi’s thoughts wandered, he let his hands do the same. He moved further down Hanzo’s back, crossing the lower part of his spine. He spanned his hands across, feeling the width and shape of the man’s hips. Brushed his fingers inward, finding the dip in Hanzo’s back. The Shirai-Ryu responded with a spasm, outright bucking his hips with a low, desperate sound. “You have a weak spot after all, Hanzo.”

Hanzo vaguely registered that Kenshi was speaking to him. And some part of his mind told him that he should be paying attention. But he could only hear the fond tone in Kenshi’s smooth voice, soothing over him. Everything felt far away, but still ever-present. All of his worries were so distant. Even the wraith inside of him felt quiet, content. He could feel a sound bubble from his throat, and didn’t even try to suppress it.

He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, but he hoped that thinking was enough, that Kenshi could _hear_ just how desperate he was through his mind. _What are you doing to me_?

“Enjoying you,” Kenshi mumbled in response. His voice sounded thick, just as blown as Hanzo felt. Kenshi knew exactly what he was doing to Hanzo, and it was affecting him in kind. Every elevated heartbeat and ragged breath echoed through his ears like it was the only sound in entire world. He moved his hands over the briefs that Hanzo wore, slightly taken aback from the sudden lack of bare skin. Hanzo was still radiating warmth though, as though the fire inside his veins had risen to another purpose. Even through the fabric, Kenshi could feel Hanzo’s body as though it were directly under him.

To Hanzo, every single touch felt like fire, as though Kenshi had somehow managed to turn every nerve into an erogenous zone. He wanted to say something, whether to damn him or beg him to continue. But as Kenshi felt around his rear, all of his words melted and spilled uselessly from his mouth in mumbles.  It felt too good. Everything felt too sharp and too real. Kenshi could do this forever. He could do anything he wanted to his body. Kenshi could…

“Hanzo,” Kenshi said softly, pulling the man out his stupor. The other man was grinding against the futon, rolling into Kenshi’s hands and begging with every inch of his body. He was probably unaware that he was doing it. His only response was a slight growl, encouraging the swordsman to continue.

Kenshi would be lying if he were to say that this wasn’t part of the plan. He had not intended on doing anything explicit with Hanzo, but he did want to see which buttons he could press without the man outright objecting. And to feel the ninja radiating heat, completely open and craving Kenshi’s touch? Well it was far more than anything he could ask for.

Hanzo spread his legs open as Kenshi touched the insides of his thighs, moving on pure instinct alone. The swordsman savored the feeling of Hanzo spreading himself under him, imagining how it must look. Still, he held his hands back from pressing further, moving his fingers down towards the knees.  

Hanzo grunted, not exactly disappointed but still feeling neglected. He was not bothering to hide his heavy arousal as Kenshi felt down his claves and across his ankles. Hanzo let out a long groan and Kenshi removed his hands. “You are just as I imagined.” Kenshi’s voice was hushed as he moved back onto his knees. Figuring they were at last done, Hanzo rolled back over to his back, hard and leaking into his briefs.

 Hanzo slowly opened his eyes and glanced over at the man sitting to the right of the futon. Kenshi looked just as wrecked as Hanzo felt: hair slightly out of place and his blindfold slipping down his face, slick from sweat. His bare chest was flushed all the way down to the line of his underwear, where Hanzo’s gaze lingered.

“A natural reaction, I assure you. You have quite the body, Hanzo,” Kenshi then finished, as though feeling Hanzo’s eyes on the bulge in his underwear, and the wet spot that was forming there.

“You missed a spot,” Hanzo said, his voice rough. He felt a bit like an idiot pointing that out to Kenshi. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but he was sure he didn’t want to be done yet.  

“It seems I did.” Kenshi swallowed hard, trying to think of a good way to proceed. Finally, he placed a tentative kiss on his lover’s lips, and the Shirai-Ryu responded with motion. The kisses were soft, but wet and filled with sweetness and desperation. They continued at this pace, with one or the other occasionally pulling back to huff out a small laugh or to sigh.

With the exchange of lazy kisses, Hanzo felt his energy come back to him and forced himself to sit up. With a shift of his hips, he reached down and slid off his underwear. Pulling back a little, Kenshi felt the newly bared skin, hesitant to do anything else.

After a moment of stillness, Hanzo took his hand and ran it through Kenshi’s hair. He used the leverage to the swordsman’s head backward, grumbling into his neck. “I am not a patient man, Kenshi.” His voice echoed with the same tenor he usually reserved for battle, forceful but certain.

Kenshi only smirked, reveling in just how aroused he had must have gotten Hanzo. With only his hands, Kenshi had the other man pulling and making demands. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. With that, the swordsman cupped his hands around the ball sack and reveled as  Hanzo fell back onto the bed with a groan.

Kenshi gave his testicles the same kind of attention he gave everything else. He was careful, methodical, and thorough, memorizing every single inch. Kenshi moved his hands up and down the shaft and Hanzo realized just how close he was from the swordsman’s ministrations from earlier. He didn’t want to come, since he had so little that he could give to the man in return. But when Kenshi moved downward and pressed kisses along Hanzo’s jaw, he wasn’t sure he could hold back any longer.

It all became too much for him. Too much, too suddenly, too soon. Kenshi could feel it like a brick wall in Hanzo’s mind. It nearly burned him, his hands snapping back and Hanzo moving back away from Kenshi.

“I…” Hanzo tried to find the words to express his feelings, but once again found himself wordless. Instead, he let his thoughts wander, hoping they would reach the telepath. He wanted to be with Kenshi. He wanted to be vulnerable and relaxed and come by Kenshi’s hand. He wanted so much. But more than anything, he wanted to give as much as he received. And wasn’t sure he could do that at the moment.  

Kenshi immediately understood, relaxing after realizing that he had not done anything wrong. Kenshi slid off his own briefs, spreading his legs just a little. “Go on and finish on your own. I will take care of myself.” Kenshi savored the way Hanzo’s breath caught at this, and how the futon shifted as Hanzo changed his position. 

Hanzo took a while to process it all. Kenshi was spread out in front of him, slowly stroking himself back to full hardness. The man was right in front of him, close enough to touch but far enough that Hanzo didn’t feel like it was an obligation. The swordsman just stroked himself, picking up speed. “Please,” Kenshi finally said, his voice suddenly so much needier than the other had ever heard it. “I want to hear you Hanzo.”

At that, Hanzo couldn’t touch himself quickly enough. He was not a loud man in bed by nature. His loudness came in battle, his voice booming and fierce. He separated that from his personal life, for fear that the wraith would take over. But for Kenshi, he could allow himself to moan. He could let himself groan and growl and pant. Anything to let the other man that he was enjoying this. At every noise spilling from Hanzo’s mouth, Kenshi let out a breath of his own, simply enjoying the sound. His head was thrown back, but his body was focused on every sound and movement coming from the man in front of him. Hanzo couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

“Kenshi,” he let himself mumble, voice heady and full of desire. That was more than enough to set Kenshi over the edge, quickly buckling over to make sure he didn’t make a mess of everything. The sight was new to Hanzo, watching another man come. He didn’t think he would find it as enjoyable as he did. But seeing Kenshi completely wrecked on his bed was enough to utterly destroy Hanzo. His orgasm hit him like a wave, pulsing in long bursts and waning down slowly.

It was a long while before either of them moved. Kenshi wanted to get up and clean up, but all he could do was take his underwear and wipe up the mess he made. He handed the pair to Hanzo, who did the same. He slowly moved up the futon, until he was by Hanzo’s side. “I…” He tried to think of the right words. “I did not mean to force anything on you.”

“You are a fool,” Hanzo responded, trying to get himself together. Every muscle in his body was relaxed and sated, but his head was buzzing with feelings struggling to spill out. He wanted to say something. Perhaps to thank Kenshi for giving him so much. Or perhaps to assure him that he had enjoyed it. But all he could do was lay back on the bed, absently reaching for the man next to him.

Kenshi moved in closer. Slowly at first, until he could feel the hairs on Hanzo’s chest brushing against him. Hanzo was quick to close the distance, too tired to play this constant game of hesitation. Kenshi relaxed in his arms, and held Hanzo in return. This time not to study or memorize, but to feel Hanzo and enjoy his warmth.

They laid like that for a while, breathing and recovering and just _feeling_ each other. It was the most human Hanzo had felt in a long time. He felt heavy and at peace, able to let himself rest without chasing off memories of people he could not save. He drifted to a dreamless sleep, finally feeling like he came upon a choice he would not regret. 


End file.
